


Atone

by ko_drabbles



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_drabbles/pseuds/ko_drabbles
Summary: Self-punishment, he finds, is the best form of atonement.





	Atone

Seeking atonement. That’s what this is all about, because he’s too quiet yet still talks too much, making him a useless person who deserves to hurt. He’ll say a comment or two, reveal his own opinions, and it hurts someone. He shouldn’t speak if all he can do is bruise and batter with pent up words that burst free, and so he takes vows of silence.

One day, he thinks, it won’t be enough. The only answer, the only way to truly earn forgiveness, would be to cut out his tongue and offer it as a sacrifice to the loved ones he will inevitably disappoint, time and time again. He’s not a martyr, he’s a Flagellant. He’ll prostrate himself, humiliate himself, hurt and bleed and bruise to prove he can be a better man that he is now. To prove that he can strip himself away until only the good is left.

He doesn’t cut. He’s not the pitiful, heart wrenching scene of teenager sitting on the bathroom floor, razorblade in hand and dyed red. He’s not self-destructive in the ways others in the club are. He doesn’t starve himself, nor does he finally break in the shower and slice his thighs to ribbons. He’s not (that) isolated, and he doesn’t reject every bit of help he’s offered…

Although, when has help ever been offered? He’s mature, and capable, and a fighter, and no one can hear the screams into his pillow or see tears on his cheeks or hear the bones crunch in his hand as the door slams against it. Because, why? People refuse to give him the punishment he really does deserve, so he has to take it into his own hands.

His cast is green. It’s not the beautiful forest green he loves, but something neon and sickly. It makes him want to vomit when he looks at it and, well, that’s also deserved, he guesses. For making everyone worry. For making the tension between himself, his family and his friends cloying and near unbearable. Because Takashi’s too silent, but no one else wants to speak first. A chink in the armour is rare, and they seem afraid to point it out, as if the small chink would crack and form into spiderwebs that would leave him shattered on the floor.

It’s not their fault, it’s his. He chose this. He still chooses it. To be in pain to feel some form of forgiveness, as opposed to showing them his real self. He’s sick, he’s stupid, and he can be cruel. But he still chooses to scratch the skin over his collarbones raw and watch himself press his hand to his throat – cutting off his air – in the mirror. They’re so kind to him, and he’s so ungrateful.

He should just die, but he won’t. For however much Takashi wants to not be a burden, to stop this assault on all he loves, he supposes he’s just too selfish for the ultimate repentance.

Or, perhaps, unknowing what to do in the face of ultimate peace.


End file.
